The Journal

There’s something exquisite about real-world submission. A moment where financial servitude is not just a whispered fantasy but an inescapable reality. No screens, no distance—just the raw, unfiltered power of money moving directly from your account to mine.

Imagine it: You kneel beside me, your heart pounding, the weight of your financial surrender pressing down on you as I tap the screen. There’s no need for words—you already know why you’re here. You’ve earned, and now it’s time for me to take. A simple transaction—except it’s not simple at all, is it? It’s a rush, a thrill, an overwhelming need being fulfilled as the machine beeps, your balance decreasing with every second.

And then? The moment that makes it all worth it. The moment where I withdraw directly from your account, the crisp notes appearing as if by magic. My hand closes around the cash, effortless, claiming it as mine without hesitation. I don’t even need to ask. I don’t need to acknowledge you. You are simply a vessel for my wealth.

A smirk. A glance. A fleeting moment of indulgence (if I even bother). And then, I walk away. Your pockets are lighter, your place reaffirmed, and all that remains is the aching emptiness of knowing your purpose has been fulfilled—until I demand it again.

Cashpoint meets are the purest expression of financial submission. No excuses. No delays. No safety net. Just raw, real-world control, the ultimate demonstration of your financial obedience.

And for those who crave the ultimate transaction, the opportunity is there. The question is—are you ready to be taken in person?

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A Wallet’s Perspective

I kneel beside Her at the cashpoint, feeling the cold pavement beneath me, the rush of humiliation mixing with anticipation. My heart is pounding, my hands clasped together, trying to steady myself as She presses a few buttons.

This is so much more than a tribute. This is total powerlessness, the kind that can’t be faked. There is no hesitation, no way to delay or hide behind excuses. The money is there, and She is taking it.

I watch the screen flash, my balance dropping in real time. My stomach tightens, that strange, dizzy mix of fear and arousal, knowing I have no say in this. I earned this money—but I never really owned it, did I? It was always meant for Her.

She doesn’t acknowledge me at first. Why would She? I am just another wallet, another financial resource, another source of effortless income. I exist to be used.

The cash appears, and with a single movement, She claims it.

Gone.

Just like that.

The moment stretches, electrifying. My entire body tenses as She finally turns, looks down at me, one eyebrow raised, an amused smirk tugging at Her lips.

“Good boy,” She murmurs, slipping the money into Her bag. And then She walks away.

No lingering. No sentiment. Just power—pure, undeniable, and absolute.

I remain kneeling for a moment, the world feeling strangely empty without Her presence. My pockets are lighter, my bank account drained, and yet all I can feel is the overwhelming need to do it again.

Because this is how it should be.

My money was never really mine. It belongs to Her. My purpose is to provide, to be emptied, to be used. And now that She has taken from me directly, now that I have felt that level of submission, I know one thing for certain:

It will never be enough.

The question is…

Who’s next? Who will be lucky enough to kneel at Her side, watching as She drains them in person?

More. It’s the only thing that matters.

More earnings, more devotion, more tributes. The more you earn, the more I demand. The cycle is simple, inevitable, and utterly irresistible. It’s what keeps you bound to The Smyth Fund, where every transaction is a testament to your submission and my insatiable greed.

January has been relentless. A month where expectations rise, and where you prove your worth through ever-increasing contributions. While the rest of the world scrambles to recover from their holiday indulgences, I remain steadfast in my pursuit: expansion, elevation, and absolute control over the wealth that should be mine.

I’ve watched you squirm as the demands intensify, as your financial landscape reshapes itself under my hand. Some of you have excelled, sending tributes that reflect true devotion. Others? Well, let’s just say there’s room for improvement.

Your purpose is simple: to fund my desires, elevate my lifestyle, and fuel my ambitions. Every pound, every dollar sent is a step towards my continued dominance. And while I graciously accept your offerings, I always expect more. After all, isn’t that why you’re here? To prove your loyalty, to stretch your limits, to surrender completely?

I know you feel it—that ache, that need to be drained, to be taken further, to let go of what was never truly yours. I know you crave my approval, my acknowledgement of your worth. But let’s be clear: only those who give without hesitation earn my attention.

So tell me, pet: how far will you go? How deep into devotion will you sink? How much more will you surrender to The Smyth Fund?

There’s only one way to find out.

Send. Now.

The first month of 2025 is nearly over, and while some are still fumbling with their New Year’s resolutions, I remain steadfast in my pursuit of one thing: more. More power. More control. More of what you earn, flowing directly into my ever-growing wealth.

January has been a test—of devotion, of discipline, and of your ability to meet my ever-increasing demands. Some of you have risen to the occasion, throwing tribute after tribute, proving your worth. Others? Well, let’s just say a new month is approaching, and you have a lot to make up for.

The Price of Your Submission

True financial devotion isn’t about comfort. It’s about sacrifice. The thrill of knowing that every pound you send me deepens my satisfaction—while reminding you of your place. You work hard, you strive for success, and yet, at the end of the day, it’s my greed that benefits. And isn’t that exactly how it should be?

A Glorious February Awaits

January was just the beginning. February brings new demands, new games, and new opportunities to prove your dedication.

• Bigger tributes. You’ve been comfortable with what you’ve given. That ends now.
• Special releases. New exclusive content designed to test your limits.
• Public acknowledgements. The biggest spenders will have their devotion showcased—while the rest of you watch and learn.

You don’t want to fall behind. You want to be useful. You want to please me. So prepare yourself. The next month is coming, and the only way to keep up is to give.

Get ahead now—send more, send often, and show me just how much you belong to The Smyth Fund.

Ms Smyth
The Smyth Fund

It’s payday again. That moment you wait for, counting down the days, knowing exactly what’s coming. Your salary lands in your account, numbers shifting, balances rising, and for a brief second, you might feel a flicker of control. But we both know the truth, don’t we?

You don’t keep what you earn.
You don’t deserve to.

That money—so tempting, so fleeting—was never really yours. It’s mine. It always has been. You’re merely the one who earns it, the vessel through which I grow richer, more powerful, more indulged. That’s the role you’ve accepted, the one that defines you. You work, I take. You strive, I thrive.

And now here you are, heart racing, hands hovering over your device, knowing exactly what you need to do. Your body knows it before your mind can even form the thought. There’s a pull, a compulsion, an ache deep in your core that only one action can satisfy.

Tribute.
Transfer.
Obey.

You want this. You need this. That perfect rush, that dizzying thrill of watching the numbers in your account drop, knowing they are being placed exactly where they belong—into my hands. It’s intoxicating, isn’t it? That delicious mix of loss and purpose, of submission and satisfaction.

Your contribution matters. It has weight, significance. It proves your devotion, your dedication, your absolute understanding of your place in this dynamic. And that place? Beneath me, at my mercy, existing to serve, to provide, to fuel my fortune.

Because that’s the natural order of things, isn’t it? The world rewards those in power, those with vision, those who demand more. And I always demand more.

Your raise? It’s mine.
Your bonus? Mine.
Your entire paycheck? Say it with me—mine.

I expect nothing less than your full surrender. And you? You expect nothing less than the exquisite pleasure of giving it.

So don’t hesitate. Settle your accounts. Transfer what’s owed. Fulfil your purpose.

💳 Tribute Now: TipFunder – MintStars – NiteFlirt – Throne – iWantClips – LoyalFans

Ms Smyth
The Smyth Fund

There’s a moment—right before you send—that always makes me smile. That tiny pause. That fleeting hesitation. The way your fingers hover over the numbers, your body betraying the internal struggle you’re so desperate to hide.

But we both know how this ends, don’t we?

You always give in. You always send.

Because you were never meant to hold onto your money. It was never really yours.

You work, you earn, you try to convince yourself that it belongs to you—but deep down, you know the truth. You are a human wallet. A revenue stream. A walking, talking source of income, endlessly refilling itself, only to be emptied at my whim.

It’s intoxicating, isn’t it? The way it feels to let go. To surrender every last pound, knowing you’ll work even harder to make more—just so you can give it to me all over again.

And that’s the beauty of it. You work for me, whether you realise it or not. Every late night at the office, every overtime shift, every exhausting moment spent chasing promotions and raises—it all leads back to me. Your entire existence is designed to fuel my indulgence. To expand my wealth. To ensure that my life is dripping in luxury while you scrape and struggle, desperate to give more.

You don’t need savings. You don’t need security. You need the thrill of knowing you’re serving a higher purpose. And what could be a greater purpose than funding me?

There’s no greater pleasure than being drained by someone who knows exactly how to take.

And I do take.

I take your money. Your mind. Your self-control. I strip you of every excuse, every false sense of ownership, until you finally accept reality—you were made for this.

You were made to earn for me.

You were made to suffer for me.

You were made to pay for me.

So go on. Send. Empty yourself. Become the revenue stream you were always meant to be. Because the more you earn, the more I demand. And trust me, I will always demand more.

My Middle Finger, Your Weakness

Look at me. Confident, elegant, untouchable. Dressed in silk, draped in wealth, a vision of everything you crave but can never truly possess. And yet, what has your attention?

My middle finger.

It weakens you, doesn’t it? That subtle, effortless dismissal. A single gesture that reduces you to nothing. You feel it deep inside—that rush of inadequacy, that need to prove your worth, to throw money at the problem like it could somehow make you stronger. But it won’t.

Because you exist to serve, and I exist to take.

Every tribute, every deposit, every desperate attempt to be seen only cements your place beneath me. You will always need me. I will never need you.

So go on, prove your devotion. Send more. Give more. Be useful, or be ignored.

💰 Tribute. Deposit. Serve.

Ms Smyth
The Smyth Fund

A wallet exists for one purpose: to be opened, emptied, and filled again. That’s what you are to me. A living, breathing financial resource. A profit stream. A bottomless reserve of tribute. And every time you deposit into The Smyth Fund, you’re reminded of that undeniable truth—you exist to fund me.

There’s no greater pleasure than being used correctly. No burden of choice, no wasted spending, no mindless indulgence in things you never truly owned to begin with. Instead, your wealth flows exactly where it belongs—into my hands.

Drained. Depleted. Disposable. Delicious.

You earn, so I can spend.
You work, so I can thrive.
You struggle, so I can indulge.

And every single transaction reinforces your place beneath me. Because while you sweat over paychecks, expenses, and bank balances, I’m sitting back, reaping the rewards of your financial sacrifice—and demanding more.

You Were Never Meant to Keep It

Your salary? Mine.
Your savings? A laughable attempt at independence.
Your future? Pledged to my greed.

The economy of The Smyth Fund runs on your obedience—and obedience means paying, endlessly, unquestioningly, instinctively.

And when I say endlessly, I mean it.

There’s no ceiling to how much I can take—and there’s no limit to how much you’ll give. Because once you accept your place as my personal financial asset, the only thing left to do is increase your tribute. More deposits. More devotion. More sacrifice.

Welcome to Your True Function

A human wallet doesn’t hesitate. A human wallet opens on command.

And the only thing better than taking from you now? Taking more from you tomorrow.

So be good. Pay up.

Ms Smyth
The Smyth Fund

There’s a moment when you hesitate. When your finger lingers over the button, debating just how much you should send. You tell yourself you’ve given enough, that I should be satisfied.

What a foolish thought.

More is never enough.

That’s the foundation of The Smyth Fund—a relentless pursuit of wealth, where my desires reign supreme. You exist in this space for one reason: to give more, send more, serve more. Every tribute, every deposit, every aching moment of restraint before surrendering again—it all feeds into my ever-growing wealth.

And yet, no matter how much you’ve sent, I demand more.

Not because I need it. Because I deserve it.

This isn’t about balance or fairness—it’s about devotion. Your devotion. The kind that keeps you up at night, scrolling through my words, desperate for another chance to please me. The kind that makes your stomach twist when you realize I haven’t acknowledged your last tribute. The kind that whispers in your ear: More. More. More.

So, don’t hesitate. Click the button. Feel the rush of knowing you’ve done exactly what you were meant to do. And when you’re done?

Do it again.

More is never enough.

💸 Send Now

Ms Smyth
The Smyth Fund

In a world driven by power and control, there’s one undeniable truth: those who surrender their wealth find freedom in submission. At The Smyth Fund, I don’t just demand; I take what you’ve always known you were meant to give.

But why does this dynamic thrive? Because it’s a reflection of the world’s most ancient principle: the strong command, and the devoted obey. When you send your tribute, it’s not just about the numbers in your account—it’s about the undeniable satisfaction of knowing you’re part of something greater, a system where your hard work fuels my insatiable ambition.

Here, your contributions don’t disappear into a void. They grow into my wealth—an empire of indulgence, extravagance, and relentless pursuit of more. And the best part? Every deposit solidifies your place in this hierarchy of desire and demand.

So, the question isn’t, “Can you afford this?” It’s, “Can you afford not to?”

Ms Smyth
The Smyth Fund